


Don't Leave Me

by crutchie_394



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alcohol, Drinking, Fluff and Angst, I love these two though, Loneliness, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Military, So sue me, poor race, why do I always torture Race, wow they love each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 07:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14806793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crutchie_394/pseuds/crutchie_394
Summary: Race closed his eyes, letting Spot’s rough, calloused fingers thumb over his face. He didn’t know when they would get to do this again, or if they would ever again.It was as if Spot read his mind. “Don’t think like that,” he murmured, bringing Race into his arms again. “You really think I’d ever leave you?”~Spot is going overseas to join the military. Race is taking it harder than he would have thought possible.





	Don't Leave Me

**Author's Note:**

> ha look at me procrastinating my WIPs again
> 
> This was a request I got on Tumblr (@well-the-kids-do-too) and I kinda like how it turned out, so I hope you guys enjoy!

Race was sobbing. He couldn’t help it. He was clinging to Spot as tight as he possibly could, his face buried in the crook of his neck.

“I’ll be back,” Spot said, his tone softer than it ever was. He carefully pried Race away, holding him at arm’s length to wipe away the tears streaming down his cheeks.

Race closed his eyes, letting Spot’s rough, calloused fingers thumb over his face. He didn’t know when they would get to do this again, or if they would ever again.

It was as if Spot read his mind. “Don’t think like that,” he murmured, bringing Race into his arms again. “You really think I’d ever leave you?”  
  
“Then… then don’t leave,” Race said, scrubbing at his face. He knew it was a hopeless argument, but he couldn’t help but try.

“You know I have to.” Spot smiled tightly at him, pressing a gentle, featherlight kiss to his lips. It was unlike their usual kisses, long and full of passion, but Race reveled in it, closing his eyes and leaning in. It ended too quickly when Spot pulled away. “This is something I have to do.”

Race sighed, hurriedly blinking away a fresh wave of hot, desperate tears. “I know.”  
  
“Hey,” Spot said. His voice was just above a whisper, and Race couldn’t remember the last time he had seen tears pooling in his eyes. Strong arms wrapped around his waist, and Spot pulled him impossibly close, standing on his toes to press their foreheads together. “I love you so much.”

Race sighed, breathing in Spot’s familiar scent - that old, musty smell that made him feel safe and protected no matter where they were. “I love you too.”  
  
And then Spot was gone, out of Race’s arms before he even knew what happened.

~

Race trudged out of his apartment, dragging himself down to the main floor of his apartment. He absentmindedly picked at the loose waistband of his sweatpants - he felt like he’d been losing weight since Spot had left, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

The cluster mailboxes for his apartment were outside, and he blinked in the harsh sunlight as he stepped out. He felt exposed, fiddling with the hem of his hoodie, eyes downcast. Sure, he’d left the house every day since Spot had left - mostly to check the mail - but he was getting accustomed to long nights in front of the computer, watching a stupid Netflix show. He knew his friends were getting worried, but what did he care? He could take care of himself. He’d be fine.

He shoved the key in his mailbox, twisting it open. Amidst the usual bills and advertisements, there was a long white envelope crammed in the small space, a small bulk in it that told him there was more than just a letter inside. Confused, he pulled it out and turned it over. His heart stopped.

It had only been a week or two since Spot had left, but Race already knew his unit for delivery by heart. Feeling dizzy, he slammed the mailbox and sprinted for his apartment building, trying to ignore the thoughts running through his head. _Spot is hurt, he’s in the hospital, I wasn’t there, he’ll die before I can see him again, he’s already dead, I didn’t know, it’s only been a couple weeks -_

He ripped into the envelope as soon as he dropped his key on his kitchen counter, hopping up on the table. Two things fell on the table - a small note and a plastic bag with something metal inside. He opened the note first.

_These are for you. In case you need someone’s hand to hold._

_~Spot_

Race didn’t even know what Spot was talking about, but a tear still dripped from his nose. He set the letter aside after reading it over half a dozen times, shaking out the plastic bag and examining the contents.

Sitting in his palm were two metal tags on chains that reminded him of the keychains you’d find in gift shops. _Sean Conlon._ That was engraved at the top, then a bunch of information that Race knew was Spot’s service number and what must have been his blood type.

He was crying again, pressing the tags to his chest. Spot must have had them copied. Delicately, like they could break any second, - or maybe he felt like he would be the one to break - he slipped them over his head, letting the cold metal rest against his chest. Somehow, it eased the pain in his heart just a little bit more.

~

Race was shaking with excitement. The Skype call buzzed, and he impatiently tapped his fingers against the dog tags around his neck.

The call picked up. His heart thrummed as the grainy screen popped up, and he thought he would cry again as Spot grinned at him.

“Miss me?” he said. His voice was muffled through Race’s awful speakers, but it was the greatest sound he’d ever heard, and all he could was nod.

“Gee, I sure hope so,” Spot said. “I’m paying for stamps and everything.”

Race rolled his eyes. “Well, maybe I’ll just hang up now, since clearly it’s such a _burden_ to talk to me,” he drawled sarcastically.

Spot smirked sadly. “Hundreds of miles away it is, yeah. I think I’d much rather be inches from your face.”

Race leaned closer to the camera on the computer. “How’s this?”

“It’ll do for now.”

“Yeah. So how’s the military life treating you?”

“It’s alright.” Spot shrugged. “At least I don’t have to wake up next to your morning breath.”

“Asshole,” Race said, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “I mean, to be fair, dogs don’t have the best breath, so you’re not off the hook.” Spot gave him a strange look. “I mean, you’re wearing dog tags! And you’ve got a dog’s name, _Spot_.”

“Who says a dog can’t be named Race?” Spot said indignantly. “You’re rocking some dog tags of your own, Higgins.”

Race stuck out his tongue. “Whatever, Conlon.”

“Hey, before I have to go - do you think we could talk for a second?” Spot said, losing the teasing tone.

Race felt a flash of panic shoving to the front of his thoughts ( _He’s breaking up with you, he found someone better, you’re too far away, he left for a reason_ ) but he ignored it.

“Sure. Yeah.”

Spot took a deep breath. When he spoke, his eyes were squeezed shut and there was a sudden tremble in his voice. “Listen, Tony. I’d get it if you wanted to, uh, date other guys while I’m gone. If you want, we can pick things up again in a few months or whatever, when I’m back. I mean… I get that it’s probably hard not to have anyone there. It’s cool. I get it.”

Race stared at him. “What?” The idea of leaving Spot for enrolling in the military was so unfathomable it was hard to think about without getting nauseous. “Sean, I would never break up with you for something like this. I love you so much. Hell, I thought you were about to break up with me!”

Spot huffed out a laugh. “Why would I do that?”

“I mean, you’re surrounded by guys wearing tank tops that work out pretty much every day, right?” Race said lightly.

“Yeah, well, most of them are also assholes,” Spot said. “Can’t imagine any of them replacing my asshole.” Someone muttered something to him off-camera, and he sighed, turning back to Race despondently. “I have to go, baby. I’ll write and we can do this again in a couple weeks.”

Race nodded. “I love you so much, Sean.”  
  
“I love you.”

~

The door banged open, and Race lifted his head. He groaned as Jack strolled in, looking for all the world like he was there on a mission. He loved his friends, but sometimes they got to be too much - the last few months were a prime example of that.

“We, my friend,” Jack said, leaning over the back of the couch, “are going out to get wasted.”

Race pulled a blanket over his face, curling up underneath and pressing himself against the cushions. “I’m not going out tonight. Buzz off, Kelly.”

Ever the stubborn one, Jack kicked the blanket away and grabbed his wrist, hauling him off the couch. “Nice try, Racer. You’ve said that for the last three months.”  
  
“Can you blame me?” Race snapped, snatching his arm away. “I haven’t seen my boyfriend in months. Sorry if I don’t wanna go to a bar and drown myself in beer.”

“Race, c’mon,” Jack said, probing him in the ribs. “You’re way too skinny. Besides,” he drew a crumpled piece of paper from his jacket and held it in Race’s face, “I’m under strict orders from Conlon himself to get you outta the house.”  
  
“Wait, what?” Race said. Jack just waved the paper an inch from his nose, and Race cursed him. He grabbed the paper, skimming it over quickly.

_Hey, Jack. Hope life’s treating you right and all that. I’ve got my hands on a rifle now, so let me know if you need me to murder someone or whatever. Listen, I’ve called Race a couple times now, and you really need to get him out of the house. Get some food. Let Davey give him a lecture on taking care of himself. Don’t care how you do it. Thanks._

_~Spot_

Jack took the letter from his hands. “So I’ve got permission from Military Man to drag your ass out of this apartment.” He shoved Race toward the bedroom. “Go get dressed. We’re going out to get some food and a drink or two in you. No offense, but you look like you’ve lost twenty pounds.”

Race found himself sitting in a bar an hour later, nursing a beer. Davey had bought him a burger, all the while talking his ear off about something along the lines of proper nutrition. His friends were exasperating, but he had to admit, the alcohol was nice. It was slowly washing away that painful ache in his chest that had never seemed to go away. He finished off his first glass, and soon he was ordering a second, then a third, and a fourth. Albert never gave him a break about being a lightweight, and he was starting to see what he meant - as the night went on, he couldn’t even remember what he’d been so upset about. He swung around the bar, letting his mind drift and the drinks consume him whole.

~

Race woke up in a dark room, a blanket thrown clumsily over his head. He groaned, clutching his pounding forehead as he pushed himself up on his elbows and glared at the single crack of light streaming through the drawn curtains as if it had personally wronged him.

The door creaked open, and he shot down again, burying himself in his pillow.

“Hey.”

“I’m not up yet.”

“Nice try.” Jack sat down at the foot of the bed, the mattress shifting. “I heard the groaning call of a hangover from two rooms over.”

“Yeah, shouldn’t you be wishing you were dead too?” Race said as Jack threw a bottle of Advil on the nightstand.

“Nah, didn’t drink last night,” Jack said. “Davey and I were busy.”

“Shut up.” Race wrinkled his nose and chucked a pillow at his head half-heartedly, not too fond of thinking about what Jack and Davey might have gotten up to the night before.

“Okay,” Jack sighed dramatically, heaving himself off the bed and ruffling Race’s hair. “Take the Advil. I’ll see you later, Racer. Call me if you need me.”

~

Race told himself it was probably a bad idea to submerge his self-pity in shots of vodka, but he was still sitting in the same bar three days later, swaying on his feet when he stood. He hadn’t told anyone that he was going somewhere - he knew his friends wouldn’t let him go far by himself when he was like this. He just wanted to be alone.

He was staring at the stained wood, resting his head in his hands, when a hand that slid around his shoulders made him jump. He looked around at the man that had snuck up behind him. “Uh, hey.”

The man smiled toothily. He was obviously drunk. “What’s goin’ on? Can I buy you a drink?”

“I’m good.” Race awkwardly fiddled with the beer in his hands. “I’ve got one.”

The man’s hands traveled up, pulling firmly at Race’s hair. “You’re an awful pretty one.”

“Thanks. I’ve got a boyfriend, though.”

“Aw, c’mon, baby,” the man slurred. “I’ve seen you over here a couple times without no one on your arm. Whoever you showed up with last time was swingin’ around with another guy.” He grabbed Race’s chin forcefully, tilting it up. “I can show you a real good time.”

This had happened a couple times before. Someone would sidle up to him and wrap an arm around his waist or grab his hips and smirk at him, as if that alone could make him swoon. He’d never been scared, though. He always had Spot beside him, ready to tear the guy to the ground. But this time, Spot was hundreds of miles away. He was alone, and he couldn’t help the fear that stabbed his heart.

“Dude, I’m really not interested -”

“Babe, there you are!” The unfamiliar guy that came up to them didn’t help his nerves whatsoever. The new guy glanced at the man holding Race’s face. “Is there a problem?”

The man looked between them carefully. He loosened his grip on Race’s jaw, taking a step back and rubbing the back of his neck. “No, of course not! No,” he stammered. The new guy nodded firmly and turned to the bar, keeping a protective arm around Race’s shoulders, and Race shuddered as the man threw him one last wink before hurrying off.

The new guy turned around, watching the man go, then the hand on Race’s arm was gone as quickly as it had come. “Oh, man, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to see you get into a bar fight and get tossed out or anything. And even if you didn’t, I was kinda scared of that guy would do. You didn’t look like you were enjoying that.”

Race shifted uncomfortably. “Uh, thanks, man, but I really don’t want to come home with you or anything…”

The guy looked confused, and then realization must have hit him as Race recoiled and crossed his arms over his stomach. “Oh, no! God, no. I would never do that. I’ve got a boyfriend, man. Actually,” he jerked his head across the bar, where another guy was smiling at them sympathetically, “he’s right there. And he’s totally cool. You looked like you needed some help.”

Race breathed out shakily, offering him a terse smile. “Thanks. I really did, I guess. And I’ve got a boyfriend too. He’s overseas in the military. So, yeah, thanks for stepping in.”

“No problem. Do you need me to call someone or something? You don’t look buzzed, but you’re shaking a little.”

Race looked down. Sure enough, his arms were trembling. He had only had a drink or two, but he still didn’t trust himself to make it all the way home. “Sure.”

~

Yet again, Race blearily opened his eyes to welcome the sight of his and Spot’s bedroom. This time, though, Albert was sitting on the other side of the bed, lazily scrolling through his phone.

“We didn’t hook up, did we?”

Albert looked up, staring at him for a second, and scoffed. “Nah,” he said. “You’ve got your boy and I’ve got mine.” He shrugged, scooting over to rest his head on Race’s shoulder. “Apparently you told some guy last night to call me and I came and picked you up. Said something about a creepy guy hitting on you. You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Albert hummed. “Well, you passed out halfway home.” They were quiet for a few minutes, and Race was half-asleep by the time Albert checked his phone again and said, “Hey, you’re supposed to call Spot in five minutes.”

Oh. Right. They had set up another Skype call last week. “And you’re just reminding me now?” he whined as Albert hopped off the bed to search for Race’s laptop.

“Oh, I’m sorry, your Majesty,” Albert said, handing over the laptop for Race to log in. “That is no way to treat your supposed hookup partner.”

Race ignored him, typing in the password. Not a minute after he pulled up Skype, it started ringing. He shooed Albert out of the room as he accepted the call.

“Race, hey. We need to talk.”

Race’s stomach dropped. The last time Spot had said those words, he’d been telling Race it was okay to break up if that’s what he wanted, but it could very well be the exact opposite this time. He swallowed nervously. “Yeah?”

“And I’m not breaking up with you.” Spot seemed to sense his hesitation, and his words eased Race’s conscience. He nodded, and Spot forged on. “Look, I’ve been talking to Jack over video call too. Yes,” he said, holding up a finger when Race looked at him amusedly. “Believe it or not, I can put up with Kelly for more than five minutes at a time. Anyway, I talked to him, like, an hour ago, and he told me what Red told him.”

Race rolled his eyes, shouting a “Fuck you, DaSilva” to Albert in the other room. How fast did news travel between his friends? “Yeah. If you’re worried about the guy that came up to me, he didn’t do anything.”

“No, yeah, Kelly told me you seemed okay. But… Tony, you can’t just keep getting drunk.” Race started to protest, but Spot cut him off. “I know you haven’t done it that much, babe. But you will, and I’m telling you now that you’ve gotta cut yourself off.”

“Sure.” The words were going in one ear and out the other, unlike usually, when he would drink up Spot’s words hungrily, and Spot seemed to be able to tell.

“Hey, listen to me. It’s fine to get buzzed a couple nights a week or whatever. But you can’t keep going back. And whenever you do, you’ve gotta take someone with you. No excuses.”

Race smirked. “Geez, what kinda witchcraft are they shoving into your head to make you the mature one here?”

“You don’t even wanna know.”

~

Race tried. He really did. Sometimes the lure of the bar was tempting, but he swore Davey put a tracker chip in him, because he always seemed to find one of his friends by his side by the time he ordered a drink.

Eight months after Spot had left, Race was spooning ice cream from a tub, staring at the old sitcom playing on the TV. He didn’t exactly feel depressed anymore. He hadn’t cried in weeks. He just felt empty.

Someone knocked on the door, and he whipped his head around for a split second. Then he sighed, stirring the ice cream with his spoon. It was probably just Jojo with a bag of takeout or Albert with concert tickets. Dutifully, he heaved himself off the couch and dragged himself to the door, not even bothering to look through the peephole before swinging it open.

“You know you can just come in. I don’t wanna go -” He froze, going stiff. His uniform was scuffed and there was a hole worn through the lapel and a tag hanging from his neck glinted in the bright sunlight outside, but his grin and dark brown eyes were more familiar and beautiful then they had ever been.

Race shrieked, clapping his hands over his mouth and launching himself at Spot as if he would disappear if he waited too long.

Spot yelped as Race pounced on him. He lifted him off the ground with ease, twirling him around as Race clung to his shoulders for dear life.

“I missed you so much,” Race breathed as Spot set him down, not letting go for a single second.

“Hey.” Spot took his face in his hands. His fingers were rough and calloused, but it was so much more gentle and welcome than the man at the bar had been. Spot looked him in the eye. “I love you so much. I don’t say that enough. It was always hard for me growing up, you know that, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. I love you.”

Race shook his head, taking Spot’s hands away from his face to hold them in his own. “I love you too. I don’t know what I’d do if you never came home. I love you.” Their lips connected suddenly in a soft kiss, and Race realized how much he’d missed the feeling. Their teeth bumped as they both smiled, and Spot groaned, shuffling away.

“You’re a dork.”

“I’m the dork?” Race said, looping his arms around Spot’s neck to pull him back in. “Sure, Spottie. Whatever you say.”

**Author's Note:**

> wooo that was angsty and then it was fluffy and then it was angsty and then fluffy again what a wild ride
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!! Kudos and comments are always appreciated. Have a good day, babes!


End file.
